


Responsibility

by TacticalCupcakes



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Existential Crisis, Gen, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 02:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16461356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TacticalCupcakes/pseuds/TacticalCupcakes
Summary: Monika has a troubling realization, and isn't sure how to cope with the new information she's learned.





	Responsibility

 

_No… Surely this can’t be it…_

I pace back and forth in the hallway, running my hands through my hair. It doesn’t matter where I go or what I do.

Nothing is real.

Everything around me is simply setup for someone’s fantasy. And in that, I am a mere bit part. There is no happy ending to my story; all that matters are my friends… or at least, I think they’re my friends. Are they real too? Or are my memories fabricated to advance the plot?

I pull out my phone, and dial the number of my friend Sayori. According to the clock, classes should be over for the day. After a few rings, I hear her answer.

“ _Hi, Monika! I have a poem for the club, and I’m going to bring my friend MC along!_ ”

“Sayori, can you hear me?”

A beat.

“ _Hi, Monika! I have a poem for the club, and I’m going to bring my friend MC along!_ ”

“No… please, Sayori…” I choke, “I can’t be alone…”

“ _Hi, Monika! I have a poem for the club, and I’m going to bring my friend MC along!_ ”” She repeats, as chipper as ever.

I hang up the phone, and slide against the wall down to the ground. Holding my head in my hands, I stare at the ground.

_They’re all puppets… props in this sick story…_

“AAAAAAAAaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

I fall to the floor, cradling my knees and tearfully sobbing.

_I’m all alone… there’s no one I can talk to besides myself…_

There’s distant chattering and footsteps to my right, but I can’t will myself to move. Opening my bleary eyes, I see a familiar silhouette walking closer to me, another person in tow.

“Hi, Monika!” Sayori beams down at me, standing straight at attention, “I have a poem for the club, and I’m going to bring my friend MC along!”

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” I stand up, and in my frustration smack her as hard as I’m able to, the sound echoing through the hallway.

She doesn’t react. She doesn’t even blink.

_What… what is this…?!_

Sayori starts repeating herself, but I don’t stay to listen. Picking myself up hastily, I run through the school until I happen upon a seemingly unused room. I slam the door behind me, and place a hand on my chest. My heart beats erratically with no rhythm, filling me with intense pressure.

_What do I do what do I do what do I do What do I do…_

Looking around the room, I notice a dusty piano in the corner, and a tall metal cabinet on the other side. With tentative steps, I make my way over to the cabinet, and wrench open its rusty doors. The hinges groan in protest, but allow me access.

Various arts and crafts supplies are neatly organized on the shelves; pencils, pens, paper, crayons, scissors, crafting knives…

_Wait…_

I reach forward and take one of the knives. I can feel the studded pattern along the cool steel shaft.

_This… could this prove…_

Before I can question my thoughts any further, I roll up my left sleeve and press the blade against my bare arm. Trying to steady my shaky breaths, I make a small cut.

“Kttth-!”

The sharp pain causes me to drop the knife to the ground, the small blade breaking on contact. Suddenly, my mind is flooded with memories; I see my friend standing over a water fountain, her arm laced with cuts of varying lengths. Some are fresh, and some are pale scars. At first she doesn’t notice me, but then she looks up. Her face is painted with shame and fear, someone having found her secret.

I shake my head, bringing me back to the present. I both remember that exact moment, yet I can’t pinpoint enough detail to say for sure it actually happened. The tiny cut stings, blood trickling down my arm.

_Okay… I have blood, and I can feel pain… that means I’m alive… but Sayori didn’t react at all when I hit her earlier…meaning…_

Adrenaline and endorphins rush through my veins, confirming my existence. Although I might be cursed to an eternity alone, I at least know where I stand.

I reach back into the cupboard, and pull out an unused notebook and a pen. Opening up the cover, I start to write. Perhaps keeping a diary will keep me sane. Or am I already insane? I’m not sure.

_Today, I cut my skin open for the first time. It was exhilarating. I think I understand how she feels now. I’m supposed to be the responsible one, though. So I don’t think I’ll be doing it again, unless I decide to kill myself._

I bring my arm to the lower half of the page, smearing some blood across it.

_I left a memento of the occasion below._

I look back down at my arm, dried blood stained messily against my skin, then back down at the page. _What better mark is there of one’s art than that which makes them up? Such a visceral keepsake of a dire realization…_

For now, all I can do is wait for the story to continue. If I’m able to hurt myself, could I change things? Could I write my own ending…?

I suppose that’s something I’ll have to try later.


End file.
